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Best Poems Written by Randy Curry

Below are the all-time best Randy Curry poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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He Fills My Cup

Mornings begin with my savior 
His richness every day fills my cup 
On loan is his bounty and flavor 
He helps this wracked body stand up. 
The warmth of his substance is welcome 
His essence spells relief to my eyes 
Full with his sweetness I’m spared boredom 
Without him this wracked body cries. 
One connection with him's not sufficient 
I thirst for the nectar of his soul 
Without his strength I'm deficient 
With his nourishment this body can stroll. 
When I’m wandering without much direction 
And I’m listless and moving too slow 
I just look to him for more gumption- 
He's another good cup of hot Joe

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Growing Up

Momma taught us tenderness 
Poppa taught us tough
Momma cooked and cleaned our mess
Poppa earned enough.

Sisters were a cut above
Brothers were a pest
Girlfriends shared a puppy love
One pal was your best.

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Rhyme and Rhythm

Rhyme and Rhythm

The supple face of poetry without the smile of rhyme
Is like a clock with pretty hands but fails to mark the time.
The rhyming words of poetry enhance through artful dance
Import of stirring much the same as love’s alluring glance.

Suspense of drama, wrenching fear, the chilling dread of death
Come so alive to leave their curse through whispered rhyming breath.
If comedy is of one’s ilk with ease is found the word
To garner laugh and merriment when rhyming can be heard.

The sense and choice of rhyming words is oh, a special art
That speaks the rhythm of one’s stroke and sets it much apart.
Right lyrics penned with song in mind compel as to confess
A contract with Erato sealed with heavenly god-bless.

No quarrel with those other forms I heartily express
For numbers of one’s readers count how poets may assess
Acceptance of the poetry they’ve offered up to read
That should to till the mind and plant a stimulating seed.

Rhyme and Rhythm - Randy Curry 10/04/2013

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The Why of the Storm

The Earth spins fast to morning
The dawn prods Sol to wake
And radiate his bright personality
Engaging a new day to break.

As the cold of the night is diminished
The chill of morning gives starch to the breeze.
The air is crisp with apprehension;
There is disquiet in the bent and the trees.

The effervescence of early morning
Cedes vitality to the glaze of day
And the hands of an obscure time-piece
Tick as glaze fades to threatening gray.

The anxiety of flora and fauna
Gives rise to the havoc that lurks;
There’s a change in the thrill of the morning
And they know how Mom Nature works.

Sneering clouds hover low on the horizon;
A Storm has its sights on the land.
That’s where it will unleash its potential
Exactly where Nature has planned.

The Storm with conscience unchallenged
And might to level all in its path
Commits sin against man and nature
Yet refuses to atone for its wrath.

After the Storm has languished 
And the clouds pass by and dissolve
The production of Nature’s wonder
Is a force that man may never solve.

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Rites and Wrongs

Rites and Wrongs  

This write suggests the search of many slants
Pursuing words of truth you hold most clear.
Stand sober toward the charlatans whose rants
Exact belief in those susceptible to fear.

Reflections on the tomes of writers past
Remark agendas with a want to bring
To light the mystic words that prophets cast
Which spread the lofty rumor of a coming King.

A rock holds sway while scratches on a stone
Prescribe the path of hallowed righteousness.
Successors to the dozen set the tone -
The mind that dares diverge invites the hot abyss.

The stream that's meant to wash away the stain
Which nascent blooms bear from the first of breath
Presumes we bleed not pure but earned our pain-
A wrenching debt, but spares an endless tortured death.

We know not why the wind sweeps insolence
Into the space of grayish rooms unseen
And presses some to scoff at reverence
For black-robed shadows knelt and bowed in holy scene.

Lawless acts to shelter sins are fraught
With hushed consort by fiends so likely bent
Who offer haven when their rogues are caught.
Whose shrouded malice deemed a minor, lone event.

But yet the seething silence in the guise
Of those whose offered trust was so defiled
Is broken only by their troubled cries.
A shameful stigma preyed upon them as a child.

So tremble not to dash the age-old trends
With questions bracing your unruly airs.
Yea, stand alone, if need be, from your friends
For surely your slant deems as much respect as theirs..

Details | Randy Curry Poem

Please Tell Me

How does one decipher truth 
What side the line is right
Who fosters wars and sets the rules 
Whose reasons beg the fight
Who stands their ground and earns our trust 
Who backs up what they boast
Where’s our labor, where’s our sweat 
Whose purses swell the most

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Not, Not Whats There

There’s much I’ve learned, or else been taught, in actuality are not
Control of actions and perceptions these I’ve mostly not

The paths of lights from worlds above seem straight, in truth are not
The speed of light is constant whether counters move or not

A pussycat in box is dead yet live, this can be not
To have one’s cake and eat it is a want that one cannot

They say there is a holy one but see we just cannot
Communicate with those who’ve passed they think but teally not

There is another sense I feel but know this I cannot
THIS DREAM THAT TIME HAS BIRTHED I must live but fathom not

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The Face of War

The stories, bulged with laugh and boast,
Repressed the dread of shadow’s ghost.
The smell of bodies burnt like toast
They likely will recall the most.

There’s little glory in a war
And how they dare to keep the score
Of bodies where the bullets tore
The loyalty they proudly wore.

The smell of urine soaking through;
The snot and spittle adding to
The fear, and yet they always knew
The killing’s what they’re trained to do.

The enemy is now in sight;
The trembling soldier knows his might.
The finger must squeeze slow and tight;
The haunting question – “Is it right”?

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The Journey

Can I journey to perfection 
On the rails of evolution
Or must I relinquish my ticket 
To a Conductor unseen, and to me unknown?
Is the road upward 
More slanted than downward
And can I know why 
Before the end of the trip?

Details | Randy Curry Poem

Still Hanging

My life has been a wonder, how I wonder where it went
I wish I’d kept a journal to record the days I spent
So wishing for a future that is now a fading past
I hardly can remember cause I’ve aged so goddam fast.

I’ve tried to quit the smoke and drink but that was just too hard
I find it difficult these days to tidy up my yard
My wife has passed and she was cook so often I’m without
My eyes are bad, my liver’s shot, I suffer with the gout

I chase the girls but never catch and that is just as well
I’m not the man I used to be I’m sure that they could tell
My children now avoid me cause they say I’m such a grouch
They always nag away at me to get up off the couch.

My steps are not as nimble cause my cane gets in the way
I go to church more often and in there I kneel and pray
That if my number’s over soon, I hope my soul’s not lost
And at the gates of heaven by St. Pete I don’t get tossed.

This mind is not as sharp these days my skin is not as taut
That I would live forever is the way I think I thought.
The wall gets closer every day and yes I feel the squeeze
But till they fit me for the pine I’ll do as I damn please.